Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story
by SuiGeneris221B
Summary: When a birthday slips up on Phryne, she struggles to get through the day.


It didn't seem to matter what she did, everywhere she turned there was a calendar reminding Phryne of tomorrow's date. At home in the kitchen, at Madame Fleuri's salon, at the Schuyler garage where she was getting a new tire for the Hispano. It was as though the universe had to keep raising red flags. Not that Phryne wanted to forget. The date had simply slipped up on her and she was ashamed that it hadn't been on her mind more of late.

When Phryne woke the morning of September 21st she carried on as she normally did. She even went so far as to give both Dot and Mr. Butler the day off, claiming they deserved a break and she had plans for the day so there was no need for them to stay at the house. Dot protested that if it had something to do with a case she wanted to be of assistance but Phryne was quick to assure her it had nothing to do with any case. She didn't mention the day was significant. If anything, she tried to keep her attitude even more jovial than usual acting as though she would be spending the time alone doing something frivolous and exciting. Once Dot had gone to her home and Mr. Butler out to enjoy the pictures and lunch at his favorite restaurant with friends, Phryne let slip her mask and went into the parlor, staring into space for a while before sobs tore from her throat and tears streaked her face in earnest.

Her little sister would have been 30 years old today. Phryne tried to picture what Janey would have looked like with the passage of time. Taller than her, probably, with golden hair and a bright smile. London would have done wonders for Janey, she lamented. Nice clothes, a decent meal three times a day, a warm place to sleep, and a proper education were what she'd deserved. She probably would have married well, given Henry and Margaret the grandchildren they desired, and kept Phryne from doing some of the more rash things she regretted today. The Collingwood Girls would have kept society on their toes and enjoyed the ride.

Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she got up from the couch and went over to the small desk beside the fireplace pulling open a drawer and bringing out a rusty box that looked as though it had seen better days. Her fingers caressed the top of the box, the pink and white paint faded and chipped, remembering the day she and Janey found it in a trash heap outside a department store. It was dented on the side so the store couldn't sell it, and Janey had spotted it underneath a pile of old newspapers. They had snatched it before anyone saw them and Phryne had declared it their "treasure chest, worthy of Aladdin himself".

Pausing before opening the box, she held her breath, almost making a wish, hoping to remember something new this time. Some little piece of her sister that would come back to the forefront and open a flood of memories. The lid stuck for a moment, then gave way, squeaking in protest.

There were so few tangible items left for Phryne to cherish. She had the blue hair ribbons; a handkerchief that their mother had tried to teach Janey to embroider, but as there was little to practice with, it was a mishmash of threads and colors; a piece of sea glass that Janey had found during one rare outing that she'd thought beautiful, and a worn booklet of her favorite fairy tales that Phryne had read aloud over and over again to drown out their father's drunken rants when he managed to find a bit of spare money to lose at the pub.

They'd never shown the box to anyone, keeping it hidden under a loose floorboard in their tiny room. Not that they'd ever had anything valuable to hide but they somehow felt if Henry had found it he would have tried to sell it or destroy it in one of his rages.

After Janey had died and they'd discovered their new wealth in England, Phryne managed to smuggle the box in her carpetbag, unwilling to leave it in Collingwood. She found a new hiding place for it on their estate and as she grew older and made infrequent visits to see her parents, she'd pull the box from its hiding place and relax, knowing this little piece of her sister still existed and kept her grounded to reality. When Phryne decided to come back to Melbourne, the box came back as well, in the hopes that item and owner would somehow find each other again.

Gently placing each item back in the box, Phryne closed the lid again, wondering if the feeling of loss would ever go away. It had lessened since Janey's body had been found and Foyle dispatched to hell where he belonged but for whatever reason this year the memories seemed to press on her soul and Phryne needed to reconnect to the sibling with which she'd had so little time. She lightly kissed the top of the box and put it back in the desk. She needed to go to Collingwood and embrace the past she'd been trying to put behind her.

* * *

"...Of course, Dottie. I'll be sure to get some before I come home. Love you, too. Bye." Hugh Collins put the telephone receiver back on the cradle and turned back towards the papers he was organizing for the Inspector.

"Collins! Has the evidence from the Jamison case arrived from City Central yet?" Jack walked out of his office with his hands full of files and dropped them on the counter in front of Hugh.

"No sir. No one's arrived yet but they did say it could be several hours. I don't believe anyone's available to drive down here until shift change."

Jack nodded and gestured toward the telephone. "Did Dot need you for something?"

"Just to go by the store and pick up some supplies. Miss Fisher gave her and Mr. Butler the day off so she's home baking biscuits." Jack looked at Hugh in surprise.

"She did? Did Dot say why?"

"No, just that Miss Fisher wanted to give them the day off."

"Hmm. I should give her a call and see if perhaps she'd like to have lunch." Hugh gave a knowing smile to Jack's retreating figure and went back to his work. The Inspector and Miss Fisher had been seeing quite a lot of each other since their return from England and while neither of them advertised the fact, all the people closest to them knew their relationship had grown past the professional and become far more personal. The first morning Hugh had to call Miss Fisher's house at 4:00 to investigate reports of a murder and Mr. Butler had to go wake up the Inspector was slightly mortifying.

The Inspector at least had the grace to ignore Hugh's embarrassed face when Jack arrived at the crime scene an hour later in the same suit he'd worn the day before.

"Did you reach Miss Fisher, sir?" Jack walked back out of his office and began to flip through the pile of folders until he selected the one he needed.

"No one answered the phone so she's obviously not home. If she comes in, I'll be in my office looking over these witness statements. She'll probably want to look at this anyway as she knows more about Elizabeth Jamison's social status than we do." He opened the folder and started reading. "We didn't get down the dates of these people's testimonies. What was yesterday's date, Collins?"

Hugh looked around at the wall calendar. "September 20th." Jack stopped and looked up, confused. "Is something the matter, sir?"

Brow furrowed in concentration, he scratched his head. "Something about today's date, but I can't remember what. We didn't have anything important scheduled today, did we?"

"No sir. The next meeting with the Deputy Commissioner isn't until next week and as far as I know there's no one set to come in and give a deposition about a case." Jack turned to stare at the number on the calendar as though it would start talking and help him find the place in his brain where he knew the answer lay.

"It's just—there's something I know I'm forgetting. Something very important." Jack felt betrayed by his memory. He'd always been excellent at recalling dates.

"You didn't forget an anniversary, did you? Dottie is threatening to have important days tattooed on my arm so I won't forget. I haven't forgotten anything yet, but she swears that men always seem to forget birthdays and anniversaries, especially after being married for a while and then when the children arrive-. Sir?" Jack's face had suddenly drained of all color.

"Birthdays. Oh no. No, no, no-."

Hugh thought he'd need to reach out to grab Jack's arm to keep him upright. "But Miss Fisher's birthday is in December, isn't it?" 

"Yes, but her sister's birthday is today. And Phryne sent everyone away—I need to find her." Jack hurried back in his office to grab his hat and trench coat.

"Should I come with you sir?" Hugh looked worried as well.

"No, stay here in case Miss Fisher comes in looking for me. Maybe call Dot and see if she might go back to Wardlow and have a look around. I'll check back in an hour or so if I haven't found her."

"Yes sir."

As Jack ran out to the police car he began going through a mental list of places Phryne might be today. Maybe the St. Kilda shore, first? She'd said that Janey had loved the rare times they were allowed to go swimming and play on the beach.

He found himself also bothered by the fact that she'd said nothing to him several days ago when they'd had dinner at his house. If she'd been trying to spare him her pain it didn't work.

* * *

Nothing had changed much. But then, that tended to be the way of extreme poverty. Zero plus zero still equals zero after all. She was wearing the plainest, darkest thing she owned and yet Phryne was still better kept than everyone else she'd seen so far. Trying to stay anonymous in Collingwood was a futile decision; strangers were looked upon with suspicion and barely concealed dislike. Some strangers were plain-clothed policemen looking to find criminals in the squalor and the residents of the area protected their own. She saw no kind eyes turned her direction.

At one point she wanted to shout that she was one of them, she knew what their lives were like, and it was only through sheer, dumb luck that she'd gotten out. But she doubted anyone would have listened. She probably wouldn't have either were the roles reversed.

She walked past what used to be an old store that she and Janey had gotten the occasional sweets from (and had nicked a few as well) but today was a boarded up shell. She could see the soot from the fire coating the brick. A block later, Phryne found the butcher shop and the chemists. Before too much longer she found herself standing in front of their old home. It looked even worse than she'd remembered. The roof was sagging in the front and the steps up to the front door were cracked and falling apart. Some dirty, torn curtains were barely hiding the broken front window and the "yard" was more dirt than grass. Not that they'd ever had a lush lawn, but she remembered Janey trying to plant some flowers along the edge of the house trying to bring some color. There were no flowers there now, just overgrown scrub.

They used to have a skipping rope where they'd jump up and down the length of the sidewalk challenging the other to see who could last the longest. The old tub where they pretended to be pirates had been in an alley behind the house. Phryne had lost count of the number of times they'd found buried treasure or fought in spectacular sea battles or plumbed the depths of the ocean for ferocious sea monsters. She smiled a little, remembering Janey's cry of 'Land Ho!' when their mother called them in for their meager dinner. Janey had also been the first to cheer Phryne on when one of the local boys challenged her to a fight and Phryne had come out the winner, much to the boy's anger. She'd nursed Phryne's cuts and bruises later that night with a proud expression.

Noise made her look around the house to see a clothesline stretching between the house and a rickety fence. A washtub sat in front of it and a woman was pulling out the wet, heavy sheets, wringing the excess water out to hang to dry. Three dirty children were darting around her playing chase, darting in and out of the damp laundry, while a fourth with a runny nose and uncombed hair was clinging to her skirts. She looked exhausted and defeated and was probably younger than Phryne but looked far older. The woman turned and saw Phryne looking at her.

"Oy! What'dyou want!" Phryne opened her mouth but she couldn't make a sound. "I told them blokes at the mill I ain't seen Jimmy in a week so stop comin' round here tryin' to collect. I ain't got a bob to my name and neither does he. So clear out!" The woman's face was red with anger but also resignation. This was probably a normal day for her.

"No...I'm not here to take anything from you," Phryne managed to get out. "I was just...my sister and I lived here years ago...and I was...I came to remember..."

The woman gave Phryne a hard, appraising look and turned back to the washtub. "You'd be better off forgettin'. Nothin' here worth lookin' at." The child that had been clinging to her skirts began tugging at her to be picked up and when the woman ignored him, he began wailing at a level that promised to get worse if he continued to be ignored.

"I'm so sorry to have bothered you." She wanted to say something more, something encouraging or understanding, but Phryne got the feeling that nothing she said would have mattered much. And in a way the woman was right—there was nothing here worth remembering. All the precious memories of Janey were in her heart, not in a decrepit hovel in Collingwood. She turned and walked away.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Jack went back to City South. "Any luck, sir?" Hugh saw his boss come through the door with hat in hand and a shake of the head.

"No, she wasn't any of the places I checked. What did your wife say?"

"Dottie went over to the house but Miss Fisher wasn't there. She said she would stay there and then when Mr. Butler comes back, they could both go out and look if you'd like."

"I don't think that will be necessary. If nothing else, I'll call Bert and Cec to drive around."

"I also took the liberty of calling Dr. Macmillan, sir, to see if perhaps Miss Fisher went to see her. But Mac said she's been in surgery all morning and hadn't had any visitors."

"Thank you, Collins, but I suspect Miss Fisher's travels today will have more to do with places or people who knew Janey than didn't.

"What about Mrs. Stanley?" said Hugh.

"Her butler said Mrs. Stanley was in Sydney for the week on behalf of one of her charities. He also said there have been no visitors today either." Jack sighed and put his hat back on. "I'm going to try the cemetery again. I looked there earlier and didn't see her but maybe she's there now."

* * *

The memorial in front of the family plot was too gaudy, thought Phryne. She knew Aunt Prudence had meant well, but the excess of angels and cherubs and ivy carved from marble into the large statues (plural!) was excessive. Uncle Edward would certainly have mocked it, and was probably doing so now in whatever hereafter existed.

He was always one for fun, she reflected. She and Janey had always liked being around him. He was the father figure they looked to and trusted since their own father was hopeless. Edward had been devastated when Janey went missing and if her mother wasn't sobbing in Aunt P's arms then she was being held by Uncle Edward. Phryne felt bad that she had been in Paris when he died. Had she known he was so ill, she would have tried to come back to see him sooner.

Looking over the memorial plaques on the wall of the mausoleum she had the vision of Janey and Arthur and Uncle Edward together and laughing, whole and healthy, watching her and Aunt P and the rest of their family as they carried on. Phryne closed her eyes and sighed as a breeze swept through while she sat on the cold marble bench. Maybe Janey was here with her giving her a sign she was with family and at peace.

She heard him before she saw him; Jack's familiar gait on the gravel alerting her to his presence. Phryne waited until he was standing beside her before looking up at him.

"Hello, Jack." His eyes were full of concern and such love.

"I've been worried about you," he said, his fingers reaching out to stroke her face and wipe away where tears had fallen earlier. "Why didn't you remind me about today? I would have come with you." Sitting beside her on the bench, she leaned into his embrace.

"To be completely honest, I forgot about it until yesterday. I felt so horrible that I couldn't bring myself to say anything to anyone. I needed to be alone for a bit and be Janey's sister instead of Phryne Fisher. Does that make any sense?"

"Perfect sense." His arms wrapped around her protectively. "Where have you been today? I came by here earlier but I didn't see you."

Phryne stroked the smooth fabric of Jack's trench coat. "Walking around Collingwood, mostly. Trying to find old memories."

"Did you succeed?"

"Yes and no. The memories I found I really didn't want. And those I didn't find I didn't need. Mostly I found that what I do remember are the sweet memories. The pain of losing Janey will never fully go away but I think of her with a smile more often than not. And I should talk about her more so that I'm not the only one to remember her." Phryne smiled tearfully at Jack. "You didn't know her, but maybe I can introduce you to more than just a police sketch and case file. To know the sister that is with me all the time."

"I would like that very much." He kissed her temple and she grinned. "Would you like me to sit with you for a bit or would you rather I go home?"

"I would rather we go home. We can have dinner and I can tell you stories. Show you a few treasures I've kept. Make a toast. Maybe even laugh. It's what she would do for me."

He stood to help her off the bench and as they moved to walk away she turned back to the memorial. "Happy birthday, my Janey." Phryne blew her sister a kiss and then held out her hand for Jack. He tenderly took it in his own, and she turned away from the pain of the past, silently promising to share more of herself with this man who was her future.


End file.
